Chapter 863: Act 41 – Two Letters VI
“Brendel, these things are better left for your father to tell you,” Windsor said, gently stroking the faint scar on her son’s cheek—a scar left during the Wolf Disaster. Although not very noticeable, it still pained her deeply: “There are things in our family that it’s time to share with you. But first, tell me about the events of these past few days. You must have faced many hardships outside.”
“Nothing much, but Mom, you aren’t going to make me stand here and talk, are you?”
“Look at me, I’m getting old and confused.”
“You’re not old at all! You’re the most beautiful woman for miles around, more stunning than the ever-youthful Lady Ylian. From Sierman to Buche, from Manowell to Culker Fortress, who knows how many people envy Dad!”
Windsor smiled brightly at this, and Freya and Antinna giggled, having never seen their lord in such a light-hearted manner. The mistress of the manor took the hands of the two young girls and led them into the house. It was a cozy and compact living room, decorated in the typical style of rural homes in the area, complete with a fireplace, a flower rack on the wall, and a hanging pot of spider plants. Closest to the kitchen was a low wooden cabinet filled with various porcelain jars, and in the center of the room was a sofa and a coffee table, already laden with delicious snacks, steaming and fresh from the mill.
Brendel remembered his mother’s cooking well; Freya and Antinna couldn’t stop praising it, but both, quite gracefully, felt embarrassed to eat too much after just a few pieces.
Then Brendel began recounting his experiences from the past few days to his mother. Although he wasn’t skilled at storytelling, he spoke clearly and coherently. When he mentioned escaping from Ridenburg, Windsor’s face showed relief, and she said worriedly, “I heard from your father that a mercenary led refugees out of Ridenburg. We didn’t expect you to be among them. Why didn’t you come to find us directly? Your father was really angry about this.”
“I wanted to,” Brendel replied, his face reddening, “but as you know, I got in trouble with the Everything Returns Society. I was afraid of revealing my identity and bringing trouble home, so I chose not to return.”
“Oh, poor child.”
“Aunt Windsor, I can vouch for Brendel’s character. He only got into trouble with those despicable cultists to save me. It was my fault for acting rashly. Please help explain this to Uncle Scott; it wasn’t Brendel’s fault.” Freya gathered her courage to speak up quietly at this moment.
Windsor smiled at her: “Silly girl, it’s no one’s fault. And it’s not Brendel’s either. My husband is just sulking by himself. He gets like that with his stubbornness, but it will pass. Freya, Antinna, if you don’t mind, you can call me Windsor Mommy from now on; this will be your home.”
Antinna and Freya felt their cheeks heat up; they couldn’t find the courage to call out. However, their hearts were warmed. Freya, being of noble upbringing, lowered her gaze, nearly bringing herself to tears.
Brendel, oblivious to his mother’s intentions, hastily interrupted, “Mom, a lot more happened after that.”
“Oh?” Windsor’s attention was peaked: “So, where did you go next?”
“Afterward, to settle the refugees, I went to Toniger.”
“Toniger? I think I’ve heard of that place. Oh right, it seems a significant figure emerged from there—the Earl of Toniger. I heard he gave the Crusian people a lesson in Ampere Seale and recently even defeated Madara. He also helped the Princess defeat Count Rendener’s army; I suppose he’ll soon be known as Count Rendener himself.”
Brendel knew his mother was quite knowledgeable; otherwise, how would a rural woman know about Count Rendener or Toniger, let alone their connections? He had previously credited her knowledge to her noble lineage, but now it seemed that a typical minor noble family wouldn’t produce such a sophisticated lady. Considering his grandfather’s status, his mother likely came from a significant background.
However, he was somewhat surprised that his mother seemed unaware of who the Earl of Toniger was. Had Bud not informed them?
“Mom, you really don’t know who Count Rendener is?”
“How would I know who that Earl is, silly boy? I’ve only heard rumors from the town.”
“Ah?”
This surprise wasn’t from Brendel, but from Antinna, who exchanged a glance with her lord, both caught off guard. It seemed the Highland Knight hadn’t informed his family about the recent events. Why were they so hastily searching for him? Brendel couldn’t help but feel increasingly confused, desperately wanting to know the peculiar matters concerning the strange assembly of knights on Karasu Highlands.
“Brendel, do you know that Count Toniger?”
Brendel nodded, about to speak when Dawn emerged from the inner room and called to him, “Brendel, Mr. Scott wants you to come over.”
Brendel immediately closed his mouth and glanced at his mother. Windsor nodded at him, “Go ahead, Brendel, let your father see you. Don’t be fooled by how he looks; he hasn’t stopped worrying about you these past days. To find you, he’s even contacted old acquaintances. Originally, your grandfather… eh, never mind, go on. Your father will tell you everything.”
Brendel nodded. He had intended to bring Antinna along, but then thought that this was to see his father and that taking Antinna along might seem too intimate. He instinctively glanced at his aide, and with a shared understanding, Antinna quickly responded, “I’ll stay here with Aunt Windsor.”
“Call me Mommy,” Windsor corrected.
Antinna’s face turned a shade of crimson, and she murmured something so faint that she probably couldn’t hear herself, but Windsor smiled brightly, “Go ahead,” she said, “Show your father that you’re a young man now.”
Brendel then got up and walked into the inner room with Dawn. They passed through a room and reached the courtyard at the back of the manor, where he saw his father standing under an oak tree, accompanied by someone else he recognized as the team leader of the Highlanders, Bud. But he also noticed a girl not far away from them; as soon as their eyes met, he felt as though he had turned to stone.
The girl had evidently noticed him too. She turned her head and scrutinized him carefully; standing there in a silver long dress, her pointed ears peeking through silvery strands of hair, framing her soft face. Yet her expression was serene, like a dream: “My lord Brendel, it’s been a long time.”
“Y-your Highness?”
Brendel had thought of many possibilities but never dreamed that the figure appearing before him would be Princess Grifian.
How could the princess be here? Brendel felt as if he had been struck over the head, his mind going blank as he lost his ability to think. The arrival of the Highland Knights hadn’t been unexpected; he was aware of his grandfather, Darus, and his mother being from a noble line, which pointed towards a potential connection to the Highland Knights. However, the Highland Knights traditionally operated independently of Erluin’s political system, maintaining a transcendent status. How had they come to associate with the Princess and the royal family?
Brendel glanced at Bud, then at the princess, and finally at his father, feeling utterly bewildered.
This was far beyond his comprehension.
Brendel instinctively looked to his father, seeking a rational answer. However, Scott was busy polishing a great sword, meticulously ensuring the blade gleamed, then raised his head to look at Brendel: “I just heard that you’ve experienced a lot in this year and a half, and the princess has conferred the title of count upon you. Your swordsmanship has improved greatly?”
“Bud chuckled: “Scott, your son has really changed; even I may not be able to match him now.”
Scott’s eyes showed a flicker of surprise as he stared at his son. He had known that Brendel had gone to Buche for refuge since he couldn’t endure the hardships of militia training, and while he recognized Brendel had some talent in swordsmanship, he also knew him to be naturally lazy. He had often lost his temper over this. Before his father passed away, it had been his father teaching Brendel, who was strictly prohibited from displaying swordsmanship in the manor, which is why Scott had never had a hand in training him. Shortly after his father died, this unruly lad had vanished to Buche.
He could never have imagined so much could happen afterward; until Bud’s visit, he hadn’t realized that his son was still alive.
Scott looked at the sword in his hand, his old companion, which he had carefully cherished for nearly two decades, and today was the first time it had seen the light of day again. He raised the sword, demonstrated a defensive stance, and then looked at Brendel.
“Old man, what the hell is going on?” Brendel asked, increasingly confused.
“If you want to know, get past me, and I’ll tell you,” Scott said, raising the sword and taking a defensive stance. “To inherit something, you first need the qualification, otherwise I’d rather you remain mediocre. Come on.”
Brendel immediately recognized this was Erluin’s military swordsmanship, specifically the double-handed most famous form. Truthfully, his father was nearly on par in strength with the full golden realm, renowned throughout Erluin, but at the moment, he saw numerous openings. “Old man, you still can’t compare to grandfather,” Brendel thought but put on an awkward face: “Come on, let’s skip this.”
He wasn’t afraid but worried that he might embarrass his father by defeating him in two or three moves. Besides, with the princess and Bud present, given his father’s stubborn nature, if he lost face, Brendel’s good days would likely come to an end.
“Mr. Scott, let me take this one,” Princess Grifian suddenly spoke up.
“Your Highness—?” Scott was taken aback.
“Scott, let the princess have a try,” Bud said with a slight smile.
Scott hesitated for a moment, glancing at his son and then back at the princess, before nodding: “Then please, Your Highness, be sure to prioritize safety.”
Brendel had been attentively observing Bud’s expression, who was grinning like a sly old fox—he had no idea what scheme Bud was concocting. Grifian took the sword from him, lifted her skirt with one hand, and stepped in front of Brendel. “My lord, in swordsmanship, you are Haruze’s teacher, and thus also my teacher,” she raised her sword and bowed to Brendel: “Teacher, please instruct me.”
The half-elf princess slightly bent at the waist, her long dress flowing, but as she straightened, her demeanor shifted, exuding an aura that transformed her from Erluin’s princess into a standing knight. She fixed her silver eyes on Brendel, her gaze narrowing, and with one hand gripping her skirt, she advanced a step forward, stabbing at Brendel with a single-handed sword.
The flash of her sword sparkled through the dappled sunlight filtering through the leaves, resembling an extending flower leaf.
Scott saw the strike and couldn’t help but nod internally—this wasn’t a move to be taken lightly; the Princess displayed solid fundamentals. He couldn’t resist but glance at Brendel—given his son’s past standards, even ten men wouldn’t withstand this strike.
But Brendel was unhurried, stepping back to let the princess’ blade pass and then gently touching the scabbard of his Earth Sword to redirect Grifian’s attack away. The princess found herself empty-handed, her cheeks slightly flushed. She stared at him in surprise; although she had known of Earl Toniger’s exceptional swordsmanship in advance, she hadn’t expected him to dismiss her offense so effortlessly.
She realized that Brendel hadn’t put in any force, nor had he sped his movements—he had simply relied on technique to counter her swordplay.
Scott frowned, noticing that Brendel’s abilities, from the perspective of a battlefield knight, encompassed more than just swordplay. It hinted at combat experience; only those who had faced many battles would dare to face incoming blades with such ease. He couldn’t help but scrutinize Brendel suspiciously. Bud hadn’t yet informed him of Brendel’s remarkable achievements, but at this moment, he guessed that his son’s experiences outside had indeed been extraordinary.
Upon the failed strike, the princess quickly collected herself, reversing the sword for a horizontal slash toward Brendel’s waist. The blade sculpted a silver arc in the air along with her graceful movements, leaving Brendel momentarily dazed. Slashes and thrusts were different; this time, he could not evade. He had to use the scabbard of his Earth Sword to press down on the princess’s blade, then moved in a step to block Grifian’s attack path. The moment she felt the weight on her sword, Brendel was suddenly before her; wanting to withdraw her sword proved too late. With a tight grip, her blade clattered to the ground.
Grifian’s move was well-known within the White Crow Swordsmanship traditions, a technique called Winged Twist. Brendel was overly familiar with this maneuver and instinctively used his favored counter. Yet when he felt himself pinning her neck with the sword scabbard and grasping her wrist, pressing her back against him, he finally realized the extent of his folly and froze briefly.
This was a mess!
In that moment, Brendel couldn’t think of anything else.
Not only him, but even Scott was taken aback. He had never known his son to be so audacious; not only had he mercilessly bested the princess, but he had also brazenly taken advantage of her. As if the goddess of the harvest was on high, Scott felt that his greatest mistake in life was failing to teach Brendel about chivalry. Yet a flicker of relief washed over him—thank heavens they hadn’t sparred, lest the situation had turned into an embarrassment for him rather than a trial for his son, which would have left his dignity in tatters before Bud.
Pride swelled within him; they were a knightly family after all, and knights rise with swords; the Cardilosso lineage of this generation hadn’t brought disgrace upon the family, indeed exceeding every expectation.
The courtyard fell into a momentary silence.
Grifian paused for a moment but did not display any embarrassment. She gently struggled a bit and said, “Teacher, can you let go of me now?”
Brendel snapped back to reality, hastily releasing the princess, feeling his face flush all the way to his ears. He thought, “What on earth have I done?” Related to the earlier silly mistake he made in Ampere Seale, he felt way beyond purification after even jumping into the Yellow River; he couldn’t help but glance at the princess with a bit of embarrassment. However, Grifian remained calm, bent down to pick up her sword, quietly regarded him, slightly catching her breath before stating, “Mr. Scott, Commander Bud, may I have a moment alone with the Earl?”
Scott and Bud exchanged glances, as if silently conveying understanding, before nodding.
Before they left, Bud chuckled and said to Brendel, “You’ve got courage, kid. As your ‘Uncle’, I’ll pray for you.”
Brendel’s father, Old Scott, was more reserved; he merely shot him a glare, cautioning him, “Be careful.”
Brendel watched as the two exited the courtyard, still puzzled by the princess’ intent. He turned back to see Princess Grifian standing with her sword held with both hands; she was beneath the tree, tilting her head back, light filtering through the leaves onto her shoulders, looking like a woodland fairy. Her gaze crossed the courtyard, staring at the scattered farmlands beyond the manor and the distant Stag Forest, gently speaking, “Sir Knight, may I still call you that?”
Brendel’s face hadn’t lost its warmth, feeling particularly awkward alone with the princess, as though the previous gentle contact lingered in his memory, the faint scent of lilies still on him, leaving him somewhat dazed. Nevertheless, he nodded.
Grifian looked at him, the emotions in her silver eyes were complex, leaving him unsure if it was joy or sorrow.
“You must be wondering why I am here with the Highland Knights, right?”
Brendel nodded.
